Antonio was right: this was the part they had always got right. It was the other details of their relationship they had tripped over: the involvement of relatives, the demands of his career and the loss of her independence, not to mention the vicissitudes of life, which in their case had been particularly cruel.
Antonio shifted his weight to look down at her. ‘It has not changed, has it, cara?’ he said, brushing a damp curl back from her forehead. ‘Although perhaps I am wrong about that; it has changed—if anything it has got better.’
Claire trembled under his touch, her body acutely aware of his, still lying encased moistly in hers. ‘What if it’s not enough, Antonio? Physical attraction will eventually burn itself out. Then what will be left?’
His eyes were dark as pitch as they held hers. ‘It has not burned out yet, in spite of our five-year hiatus. As soon as I saw you again I realised it. I wanted you back in my bed no matter what it took to get you there.’
‘This can’t go anywhere,’ she said, dropping her gaze from his in case he saw too much of what she was feeling. She was like a toy he had decided to play with for a limited time. She had to keep reminding herself this was not for ever. He was only here for three months.
‘It can go where we want it to,’ he said. ‘For as long as we want it to.’
Claire felt a prickle of alarm run over her bare flesh as she brought her gaze back to his. ‘I’m not sure what you’re saying,’ she said, flicking her tongue out over her lips. ‘This is temporary…isn’t it?’
His gaze went to her mouth, halted, and then lifted back to hers. ‘Are you on the pill?’ he asked.
Something dark and fast scuttled inside Claire’s chest, making her feel breathless, as if the faceless creature of fear had buried itself in the chambers of her heart. ‘Um…no…’ she said, unable to hold his gaze.
He nudged her chin up with the point of his finger, his dark eyes drilling into hers. ‘No?’
She rolled her lips together, trying to think where she was in her cycle. ‘I’m not on it at the moment…’ she said, grimacing slightly.
He kept his gaze steady on hers for several heart-chugging seconds. ‘Do you think you are in a safe period?’ he asked with an unreadable expression.
‘Yes,’ she said, even though she was not quite sure. It would be disastrous if she was to fall pregnant by him, setting off another heartbreaking cycle of waiting and hoping, and yet…
Oh, God, the thought of another chance at being a mother was so very tempting. Maybe this time it wouldn’t end in tragedy, in spite of the information she had sought on the internet. She had learned that after a previous incident of placental abruption the chances of a second occurring was between ten and seventeen percent. The statistics stated that whereas one out of one hundred and fifty deliveries cited a case of placental separation, the severe form, where foetal death occurred, was only one in five hundred.
It was all a matter of chance…
‘Are you sure?’ Antonio asked, his gaze now darkened with intensity.
She nodded and eased herself away from him, hugging her knees to her chest to affect some measure of decency. ‘But even if we had used a condom there’s no guarantee it would have prevented a pregnancy,’ she said. ‘That’s how it happened the last time, if you remember?’
‘Yes, but only because you had not been taking the pill long enough for it to be effective,’ he said.
Claire felt resentment rise up in her like a viper wanting to strike at its tormentor. ‘So you’re blaming me for what happened in the past, is that it? It was my fault for being so naïve in thinking I was covered when I wasn’t? We would not have had to go through any of what we went through if I had taken the time to read the leaflet in the box? Is that what you are saying?’
A deep crevasse appeared between his brows. ‘I did not say that, Claire. An unplanned pregnancy can happen to anyone.’
She still felt herself bristling in spite of his response. ‘Then what exactly are you saying?’
It seemed a long time before he answered. ‘This is probably not the right time to bring up the subject of babies.’
Claire felt the faint hope she had secretly harboured in her chest deflate at his words. He was after a good time, not a long time. He was at a loose end in a foreign country. No wonder he had looked her up—hooked up with her in a blackmail bargain that would see him as the only winner at the end. He wanted no ties, no lasting consequences of their brief encounter. Just like last time he wanted a short, hot, full-on affair to compensate for the punishing hours he worked.
He also wanted revenge, she reminded herself. He wanted to have things on his terms this time. He would be the one to walk away, not her.
‘I can’t do this,’ she said, springing off the bed to snatch up a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. She thrust her arms through the sleeves and tied the waistband securely before she faced him again. ‘I can’t do casual, Antonio. I’m not built that way.’
‘This is not casual, Claire,’ he said, locking gazes with her. ‘We are still married.’
She frowned at him, her heart fluttering in panic. ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked in a broken whisper.
‘I want you, Claire,’ he said with an intransigent look as he stepped towards her. ‘This is not over. You know that. What happened in that bed just minutes ago proved it beyond any shadow of a doubt.’
Claire tried to back away from him but came up against the wall. ‘What happened in that bed was a stupid mistake on my part,’ she said, flattening her spine against the cold hard surface behind her. ‘I got carried away with the dancing and the wine. I wasn’t in my right mind. You should have known that.’
He lifted one brow in a perfect arc of derision. ‘It seems to me it is only my fault when you do something you later regret,’ he said.
‘You’re trying to make me fall in love with you, aren’t you?’ she asked.
He came closer, his eyes meshing with hers. ‘Is that your biggest worry, cara?’ he asked as he trailed his index finger down the curve of her cheek, before tracing over her top lip in a nerve-tingling caress.
Claire’s biggest worry was how she was going to prevent a repeat of what had just occurred between them. The sex had been mind-blowing and blissfully satisfying. Even now she could feel her body responding again to his nearness. It didn’t help that she was totally naked beneath the bathrobe she was wearing. She could feel the way her breasts were pushing against the soft fabric, her nipples still swollen and sensitive from his mouth. She could feel the moistness of his essence between her thighs. She could even smell the fragrance of their coupling—an intoxicating reminder of how she had fallen apart in his arms and how easily it could happen again. She was hard-wired to respond to him. No one else could affect her the way he did. The intimacy they had shared had only intensified her longing. She could feel it building in her; it was like an on-off pulse deep inside.
She was acutely aware of how he was watching her, with that dark, intelligent gaze of his, noting every nuance of her expression, every movement of her body as it stood so close to his.
He placed his hands either side of her head, on the wall behind her, not just trapping her with the brackets of his arms but with his eyes as well. ‘Would falling in love with me be a problem?’ he asked.
Claire ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, her chest rising and falling on an uneven breath as she looked into his deep dark gaze. ‘It…it would only be a problem if it wasn’t reciprocated.’
His eyes went to her mouth. ‘If we fall in love then we will not need to go through a divorce,’ he said, bringing his gaze back to hers. ‘A